


Train to Submission

by littlestarofthewest (sternchencas)



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Come Shot, Hand Jobs, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Masturbation, Praise Kink, Semi-Public Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-09 00:07:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20844293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sternchencas/pseuds/littlestarofthewest
Summary: Hitting a train in the middle of the day with two people is one of the dumbest things a person can possibly do, especially if the second person is you. That's what you should have said when John told you to come along. But then again, it's John freaking Marston. All common sense goes right out the window when you're faced with that man.





	Train to Submission

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fill for a request on tumblr where someone wanted to have some fun with dom-leaning John and lots of praise. I don’t claim to be very knowledgeable about dom/sub dynamics. I just wrote from the heart.

Hitting a train in the middle of the day with two people is one of the dumbest things a person can possibly do, especially if the second person is you. That's what you should have said when John told you to come along. But then again, it's John freaking Marston. All common sense goes right out the window when you're faced with that man.

You remember seeing John in camp for the first time, crawling out of his tent with a whiskey bottle in hand, his union suit so far open that you could have had him naked in seconds. The whole day, some of the other gang members were ribbing him about the most stupid things, and he just went away, emptying his bottle and giving no shit. You took him for some sort of loser then, but a couple of days later, you found out that hungover John Marston was very different from gunslinger John Marston.

Hosea told you to check out the local gun store after getting a tip that there's some backdoor gambling going on. When you had a look around, things went south fast, and John shot four guys before you even got your gun out. By the time you peaked over the counter you've been hiding behind, there was only one guy left, and John knocked his lights out with one punch. The gun shop owner was all too happy to give you whatever you wanted then, and you went back to camp with guns, ammo, and a nice pile of money. Personally, you also acquired a whole new way of looking at John.

Over the next couple of weeks, you tried to tell yourself that John was just reckless, but the more you saw of him and the more you heard about him from other people, the more convinced you got that he had more balls than most of the men in camp, and when he felt like it, he'd shove them figuratively down your throat. When he came to you this morning, telling you - not asking - to follow him, you had a sudden urge to literally swallow them down.

You're standing in a small pisspot of a town now, watching the other side of the road. Somebody comes up at you from behind, leaning in close. "He still there?" John asks in his raspy voice, and you try to ignore how the little hairs on your neck stand up.

"Yeah, hasn't moved an inch," you grunt.

You were supposed to be in and out of here in a matter of minutes. Dutch asked the two of you to grab some plans from the mayor's office, something you might be able to use in a scam. The problem is the local sheriff. He decided to take up position right in front of the building, talking to anyone who comes near. Your desire to walk over there and punch him grows more prominent by the second, so you don't even want to know how John is doing. Waiting is definitely something he hates and often the reason why he gets into trouble. Dutch told you to do this quietly, though. Punching out the sheriff is a horrible idea.

"For Christ's sake, there's gotta be a way around that asshole," John growls, and you see trouble coming your way.

"How about a distraction?" you suggest. "I could spook some horses over at the stables."

"Distraction," John muses, his eyes fixed on the sheriff as he talks to a young man who passes by, clapping his shoulder and looking after him for a while as he walks on.

A crooked smile crawls onto John's face, and he nudges you in the back. "That's it. You go over there and distract him."

"How?"

John watches you as if that's the dumbest question he's ever heard, and without warning, he slaps your ass hard, making you bite your lip to hold in a moan. "That's how. You gonna show him what an obedient boy you are for any man who takes from you what he wants."

"I'm not-" you try to protest, your heart racing at the thought that he figured you out. John grabs your arm and pushes you against the building you've been hiding behind.

"You gonna go over there right now and do what I say, or I'll have to make you."

You could ask how he's planning on doing that, but then you'd probably have to wash your pants. "Alright, I'm going."

John pats your cheek. "Good boy."

He says it like he's talking to his horse and your cock twitches uncomfortably as you walk over to the sheriff, fully aware that John will be watching you while you to try to seduce this man long enough to give John an opening to strike.

By the time you open your mouth, you already know precisely why John sent you over here. You met a lot of men like the sheriff before. He's definitely into dick and the young variety at that. As a man in a position of power, the sheriff thinks that he can get what he wants from you wherever he wants. In mere minutes, you find yourself in a side alley, the sheriff making lewd suggestions on what he can do to you.

You give John another five minutes, then you'll punch that guy and leave. As the sheriff begins to put his hands where they don't belong, you take a few steps closer to the street. "I fear I have to leave now."

The sheriff follows after you. "Oh no, dear boy. You can't dangle that perky little ass in front of me and think you can leave. I'll get what I want."

When he grabs your shoulders, the sound of a gun being cocked echoes through the alley. John puts the barrel right to the sheriff's head. "Get your dirty hands off him."

"Do you have any idea who you're talking to?" the sheriff bluffs.

"Yeah, a pervert." John smashes the gun over the sheriff's head, spitting on him before he hits the ground. "What a son of a bitch."

You couldn't agree more, but you're still angry at John that he brought you into that situation in the first place. "You're the one who threw me at him, asshole."

John shrugs, looking you up and down. "To be fair, it's tough not to bend you over and go at it with that perky little ass of yours."

You wish you could hit him or at least curse him out, but his words mean that he thought about this before, about you, and your pants grow a little tighter again.

"Come on," John says, the cocky son of a bitch knowing full well that he got you.

You walk along the road, John's hand on the small of your back the entire time. It feels possessive; as if he needs to state some sort of claim. Like so many things about John, it doesn't make sense to you.

"We're heading back now?" you ask, trying to know beforehand what trouble he's getting you into.

"No," John grunts. "The office was a bust. There's nothing there."

"Are you sure?"

"Had a nice talk with the mayor's secretary. I'm sure."

If John didn't get the thing that made you come here in the first place, it makes even less sense to stick around. "Then what are we still doing here?"

"That," John says. "We gonna hit the train."

Hitting a train in the middle of the day with two people is one of the dumbest things a person can possibly do, especially if the second person is you. That's what you should say. But then again, it's John. All common sense goes right out the window when you're with him.

* * *

The two of you sneak onto one of the cargo carriages as soon as the train takes off, hiding behind two crates to make sure you won't be spotted by the guard while you're still close to the town. Crouched down in the tight space, you become acutely aware of everything that you like about John. His lean frame, the fucked up hair, and above all, his dark brown eyes. Once in a while, you get to sneak a glance, and it's often the best thing of your day.

John stands up to peek through the window behind you, his chest right in front of your face. He's wearing a vest today, but you still see his naked torso in your mind's eye, and you wish you could lick him all over.

"I think we're good to go," he says, turning around and looking along the corridor. "Come on."

With you on his heel like a good little doggy, John makes his way to the other end of the carriage. He turns to you, his face inches from yours, and it's one of those rare moments where you can drown in his eyes.

"I'll take out the guard, you make sure nobody comes from the other side."

"Alright," you say, waiting for him to move again. He's about to sneak up on the guard when the train sways a little to one side. You spot something out of the corner of your eye.

Without thinking, you grab John and swirl the both of you around, dragging him along by the lapels of his coat. Your back hits the crates standing in the corner, but you manage to stifle the sound of pain and pull John as close as you can. You both take a few deep breaths, and you swallow before looking up to him. John's furious. You can tell by the way his jaw clenches before he's stretching his neck. "What do you think you're doing?" he hisses.

"There are three guards, not one. I saw them coming from the other carriage."

John leans over the side of the crates but pulls back quickly. "Shit, they're standing right there."

"What now?"

"We can't go back," John says, taking another quick look. "They might see us if we try."

You swallow hard when you think about the other option. "Shooting our way out?"

John's hand lingers over his gun. He's thinking about it. Then he looks at you and shakes his head. "Too risky."

"It's only three guys," you say, wonder in your voice. Usually, John is the one jumping into the fray when he's outnumbered ten to one.

"I said no."

"But-"

John puts his hand over your mouth, staring at you, his nose almost touching yours. "I already sent you after that asshole sheriff today, I'm not going to get you shot, alright?"

You nod under John's hand, and he pulls it away, giving you more room. Suddenly, you feel the need to touch him, so you reach up and pat his chest. "Wasn't your fault that this guy-"

"I've met his kind often enough," John spits out, something dark glistening in his eyes. Bad memories. "I should have known."

You don't say anything, but keep your hand on John's chest. He needs a moment to calm down, or he'll start shooting after all. The whole day turns out to be a total disaster. You wish you could do something for him that would break the tension, take the strain off of him.

"We still have my perky ass," you joke, "that's something."

John stifles a laugh, but then his gaze drops to your hand on his chest. You try to take it away, but John grabs it, bringing it up over your head and pinning it against the crate before doing the same with your other arm. You squirm, trying to get free, but then John leans in and kisses you. It's like a string of dynamite is bursting in your chest, ripping through your body and leaving you in pieces. You thought about this, wanted it for a while, but there was never any indication that John wanted the same, aside from the usual teasing and lewd comments.

You melt against John's body, and when his crotch presses against yours, you roll your hips, desperate for more friction. He pulls away from your mouth, shaking his head. "Look at you, so eager."

His hand trails over your cheek and you can tell by the heat that you must be red as hell. John smiles. "So flushed, and we haven't even started."

"The guards, John," you whisper, and his smile turns into a mean grin.

"Oh, they're still there, don't worry," he says, the hand from your face trailing down your neck, his fingertips tickling your sensitive skin. "One wrong sound from you, and I'm sure they'll come running."

"We can't-" you start, but John silences you with another kiss, licking into your mouth as if he needs a good taste.

His hand wanders down your chest, and along your hip, coming dangerously close to the growing bulge in your pants. While the sheriff disgusted you, there's nothing more arousing than John having you at his mercy. He could hold a gun to your head any day, and you'd thank him.

John stops kissing you but only to bite down along your neck, and you tilt your head to the side to give him more access. He growls against your skin. "Jesus, you really are that obedient."

At first, he seems amused that a man could give up control like that, but you can see the wheels turning in his head. He steps back, making sure that he still can't be seen by the guards. Then he turns to you. "Open your shirt."

"John, if somebody-"

"Don't make me ask again," he says, and you wonder why you're even arguing with him. This is what you wanted, after all.

You reach down, opening the buttons on your shirt, your skin growing hot. When you're done, you put your hands down to your sides, waiting for more instructions. John's eyes wander to your pants, and even while playing with you, John doesn't like waiting. "Let me see your cock."

The thought of the guards being right around the corner is still at the forefront of your mind. It's one thing to make out, but you sure wouldn't want to be caught with your pants down. This is more dangerous than shooting it out, but looking at John, you think that's what intrigues him.

You ignore the flutter in your stomach and open the buttons on your pants, pushing them down just enough so you can get your cock out. Again, you let your hands hang down beside you, waiting for orders. You feel more exposed than ever before, but that's what keeps you hard.

John's eyes flicker to the guards, but then he fixes you with a heated stare. "Play with yourself."

"What-?" you start, not quite sure if you get his meaning.

"I'm gonna watch you while you get yourself off," John says. Again, there's not the tiniest bit of doubt in his voice that you'll do what he says. "You better make it worth watching."

You've never done anything like this, haven't even thought about it. Why would you get yourself off when you have somebody else in front of you? But if John tells you to do it, then that's what's going to happen. You can't deny that you're wired that way. You want to follow his orders, please him, make him happy in any way you can.

Still, you have to close your eyes. You try to imagine that John is touching you while you do it to yourself. Starting at your neck, you run your fingers to your shoulders and further south. You squeeze your chest a little, your thumbs teasing your nipples. It's one of your most sensitive spots and your dick twitches at the sensation.

Keeping one hand there, you run your other hand down your stomach. Usually, you would just go at it, but you're supposed to put on a show, so you trail with your fingers all around your cock, keeping the touch light. You never thought it's possible to tease yourself that much, but you're beginning to become desperate for your own touch.

"Open your eyes," John says, and you follow that order like any other, but you keep looking into the ground. John clicks his tongue in annoyance. "Look at me, darling."

Having to look at him while you're almost naked and touching yourself is bad enough, but the pet name makes you melt inside. Your fingers claw into your chest, and you reach for your cock. You squeeze hard, needing to ground yourself as waves of pleasure roll over you.

John is holding your gaze, even when you reach down to cup your balls, massaging yourself. You're caught in his eyes, and somehow the shame evaporates. You both want this, there's nothing wrong about it. You lean back against the crate and run your other hand down along your body, your fingers teasing your cock with light touches.

"That's it, you're doing good," John says, getting a moan out of you. His voice and the way he talks to you get you more riled up then the touches.

You close your fingers loosely around your cock, warming yourself up to the touch. Finally, John's eyes wander down your body, following each up and down of your hand. "A little more, darling," he says, "you're already there."

Grabbing yourself tighter, you pick up the pace and run your other hand over your body. Goosebumps erupt all over your skin, and you press yourself harder against the crate for more stability.

You let go of yourself for a moment to lick your fingers, before running them along your length, spreading drops of precome over your skin. It's not much, but you feel slicker to the touch now, and when you grab your cock again, you fall into a quicker rhythm.

"Goddamn, you make quite the sight there," John says, shifting his stance a little.

The thought that he's getting hard from watching you sends a jolt of electricity through your body, and you let out another moan. Bucking your hips, you thrust into your own hand, your fingers teasing your nipples again. They perk up when you pinch them, and the heat shooting to your balls has you sway for a moment.

You reach up and hold on to the top of the crate, tilting your head back as your hand goes faster. Maybe you should put on more of a show, but it's been too long since you've touched yourself and the pressure is too much. You feel the strain on your muscles, begging you to relieve you from the tension.

With your mouth falling open, you care less and less about the sounds you're making, your moans and grunts filling the air between ecstatic breaths. You don't mean to, but you pump your cock even harder, twisting your hand at the upstroke to tease yourself.

Looking down again, you watch John's face. He's torn between looking at your face and your cock, standing too close to take in the whole picture all at once. His eyes on you drive you wild, and you begin to miss his voice, still drunk on the kind words he had for you so far.

"Is that what you want? Am I doing good?" you whisper, desperate for anything that he might give you.

"Goddammit," John groans and closes the gap between you, pressing his body against yours. "You're doing more than good, darling. You look like an angel. A sweet, dirty angel."

He kisses you again, open-mouthed and sloppy. More moans tumble from your lips, and you keep stroking yourself, not daring to stop until he tells you to. Then, John steps back, his hand on your shoulder. "On your knees."

You fall to your knees without thinking, enclosed by the crates and John's body. He opens his pants with as much patience as usual. None. You gasp a little when John pulls out his cock, and can't help but lick your lips. Leaning with one hand against the crates, he strokes himself right in front of your face.

"So desperate, ain't you? You want me?" he teases, knowing full well that you do.

"Yes," you moan. "Please, John, I'll do whatever you want."

"Oh, I know you do."

Bringing his hips forward, John feeds you his cock, pushing inside without pause. You do your best to take him and lick along his length when he draws back, always looking up to him.

"That's it, angel, put those pretty lips to good use," he says, his voice even more broken than usual. "And don't forget to take care of yourself."

You're not sure you can do this for long. You're not allowed to stop touching yourself, but being on your knees for John turns you on more than anything else ever did. The heat and smell of him in your mouth drives you crazy, and every time his cock rubs along your throat, jolts of electricity shoot right into your own dick.

The guards are completely forgotten, and you moan around John's cock, your own spit drooling down your chin. Your hand claps tighter and tighter around your dick, almost painful, and you buck your hips while you push your mouth forward to take as much of John as you possibly can. He moans and brings his hand to your head. The touch is soft, but something inside you breaks. It's like he's holding you and you can finally be who you really want to be.

You pull back until you're holding John's cock just between your lips, keeping him in suspense for a moment before you circle your tongue around his tip. Then you slide back down, pressing your tongue against the underside of his cock. You do your best to open up for him and swallow him down, your nose pressed into the little curls around his cock.

His smell is intoxicating, and you stay there as long as you can without gagging. Then you draw back again and start all over, all the while, doing the same thing to your own cock. Up, a little tease with your thumb over your slit, and back down. Spurred on by your own arousal, you soon go faster and faster, and you know full well that you begin to lack finesse, but the rub of John's flesh between your lips is too good.

You go harder and faster, John's cock slick from your spit. The noises you make are obscene, but there's nothing in the world that could stop you now. If those guards came around the corner, you'd keep going, sucking off John Marston till you have a bullet in your head.

Your moans get louder, and you fuck eagerly into your own hand, your whole body squirming under John. Then, John's fingers tighten in your hair. He pulls himself out of your mouth and strokes himself. "Come on, darling. Get yourself off. I wanna see how you come."

All you need are a few long, hard strokes and your whole body tenses. Your dick pulses in your hand, your come running down your fingers as your hips still fuck into nothing. All the time, John's eyes are on you, and your head falls back, your mouth open and your breath still going hard.

"Jesus," John grunts, his fingers clawing into your hair, "look at you. My perfect little angel. You gonna look so good with my come all over your pretty face."

He leans forward, stroking himself just as wild and hard as you did. For just a moment, he closes his eyes. You can see him come undone, his hips stuttering. Then he opens his eyes again and watches as the strands of his come shoot over your cheeks and chin. He runs his tip along your lips before pushing back into your mouth one more time so you can lick him clean.

After he’s pulling back, you both stay like this, catching your breath. Then, John tugs himself back into his pants and checks on the guards again before helping you up. The muscles in your legs are still strained, and you lean heavy against John. He carefully pushes you against the crates before pulling out his bandana from the back of his pants. "Here, clean yourself up."

You try your best to look presentable again, stuffing the piece of fabric into your own pants when you're done and fully dressed. You're sure that John will want it back, but for now, it feels good to carry something of him around. John gives you a quick once over before grabbing his gun.

"We gonna go back the way we came," he explains. "You go first, I'll follow you. One of the guards just went away. If we're lucky, they won't see us."

"We can't exactly rob the train without taking out the guards," you say, moving your legs around to get some feeling back.

"Yeah, I don't really give a shit about the train anymore. There's a station coming up, and we'll get off there."

You have no idea where you might end up then, and even for John, that's somewhat reckless. "And then we do what?"

John puts an arm around your waist to pull you closer, his hand wandering to your ass. "Then we'll find you a place to have a nice bath, and when you're all warm and relaxed, I'm gonna take care of that perky little ass of yours."

You're too surprised to say something, but you don't have to anyway. John knows who you are now, and it seems he's planning on taking full advantage. Not that you mind. As he draws you in for a kiss, your heart swells in your chest. There's nothing in this world that could hurt you now because you just got claimed by John Marston.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!! Come say hi on tumblr if you want to :) I'm [littlestarofthewest](http://littlestarofthewest.tumblr.com) there as well.


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